


Disobedient

by WritingWeeb



Series: Hetalia One-Shots [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Dark, Heavy - Freeform, How Do I Tag, I Tried, Mentions of Murder, No Romance, Schizophrenia, angsty, hetalia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22446589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingWeeb/pseuds/WritingWeeb
Summary: The twisted man tilted his head and let out a giggle of all things.Schizophrenia they called it! Insanity they said! A bad child they wailed! A murderous child they protested! A danger to society they yelled!Happy they all were when he was put in this godforsaken mental institution.
Series: Hetalia One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615210
Kudos: 7





	Disobedient

**Author's Note:**

> This is your last warning before reading this. I hope you enjoy the story and don't get too mad at me for this! I did as much research as I could and have a binder full of mental illness research because I got really nervous about posting. Again, I hope you enjoy.  
> Love you,   
> Writing Weeb

Crazy

Ivan stared at the very blank and very white wall before him, hair drooping before his gaze. His hands twitched and arms tugged at the straight jacket that held him in a soft yet iron grip. He continued to stare at the blank space before him as if he were competing with it. Where was he again? What day was it? Was anyone going to come for him? The Russian stared on, the answer to each of these questions is a simple 'no clue'. He was sure he had perfected his technique. Kill the person. Hide the body. Leave an anonymous note to the police for some random inconspicuous area. Have them dig it up to find nothing. Bury the body there when they left.

**_Where had he fucked up?_ ** ****

There was still no answer to his question. Well, no answer he wanted.

_ It was bound to happen. _

_ You are a fool, an idiot. _

_ You would never be able to run forever, you'd eventually tire. _

The stupid voices whispered to him. Fed him poison in his brain... yet he listened. He listened to what they asked of him because they'd  **shut up** . They told him to hurt the little squirrel. Kill his little dog. Destroy what he  _ loved _ . He listened because they rewarded him with such wonderful praise and such blissful silence instead of their awful insults. The awful insults that led to many issues with eating, talking, and regular activity in general. 

He thought back to his dear mother... such a sweet lady but the voices didn't like her. They didn’t like her because she took him to a therapist when she noticed the little squirrel. That's why there was a bag that had been put around her head until her chest stopped rising. They didn't like his house. It held far too many memories of an angry man and angry hands. That's why his house was ablaze at 16:00 on October 17 of 1957.  The twisted man tilted his head and let out a giggle of all things. 

**_Schizophrenia they called it! Insanity they said! A bad child they wailed! A murderous child they protested! A danger to society they yelled!_ **

**Happy they all were when he was put in this godforsaken mental institution.**

Ivan grumbled at the thoughts, his friend Alfred suddenly sitting next to him grinning ear to ear.

_ “Finally, lost it huh?” _

Alfred was a jerk. He was been there since Ivan could form cognitive thought. Ivan knew he was as solid as stone and he didn't understand why others couldn't feel him. Why others couldn’t see him… he certainly could see him. They said he wasn't real but he was as real at the bugs that crawled all over his body while he slept in the night or the shadow men that kept the edges of his vision throughout the day. He could feel Alfred's chilled hand on his shoulder. He wished his lifetime bully would just  **go away** . The infinitely cruel twelve-year-old simply cackled. Why did he never age? 

_ “Gee! You really have lost it you nut case!” _

There was a pregnant pause.

_ “Don't worry Ivan. I'm here for you. I'm always here for you.” _

Alfred disappeared the second Nurse Natalya Braginskaya walked in with a small tray of pills. So much for always being here. Ivan glared at the little torture instruments. What horrid little things! Poisonous little things! Awful little things!

_ Don't take them. _

_ They'll kill you. _

_ It's poison. _

The little voices were back at it again with whispering their truths into his ears. Whispering that felt like screaming. Ivan found his croaky, unused voice, hoarse from screaming throughout the night. 

"Go away. I don't need pills.  _ I am not _ **_crazy._ ** "

The Russian woman scoffed and stepped forward, speaking slowly but with little patience. "You believe I shall take the word of a murderer? You must be kidding yourself. Take the pills, Braginsky. I'm sure you do not wish to fight. Again." She said, her patience thin.

Ivan wanted to fight. He wanted to scream. How dare she speak to him that way! He hurt no one! They were being  **_disobedient_ ** ! The voices said so! The voices never lied! They were truthful. They were bad to him when he was bad. They were good to him when he followed orders like a good boy! They were his  **friends** . Ivan let his blood boil in silence as his anger and hatred for the world continued to brew in its nasty pot of awful.

Curse her! Curse the doctors! Curse the disobedients!

With an almost animalistic growl, he allowed the cursed woman to feed him the little poison capsules as the voices wailed, screamed and raged on. He went back to staring at the blank wall with an equally blank expression as the woman left as soon as she was sure he actually took the pills. Within minutes the voices were muffled. The world around him mute. The silence was soul-crushing and made him think, no more pesky voices to take up his head. He ground his teeth and bit on his tongue but tears began to pour down his cheeks in waterfalls. He didn't cry, he wept. He wept just like many patients in the same Hell as him.

This same Hell he'd never escape.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Note from the writer here! I am aware this is very dark and hits heavy topics. This is just a quick One-Shot about   
> Russia, from Hetalia, who lived back in the 1950s. He’s in his mid-twenties and went untreated for Schizophrenia for his whole life, bad home situations and having a VERY severe case led him to do regrettable things. It may not be shown here but he is a sociopath, lacking empathy or sympathy towards others which is why he thinks he is completely right. I wrote this completely as a psychological study for when mental illness goes too far with bad situations and no treatment. I wrote this with no ill intent and exaggerated certain aspects of mental illness, not to spread false words of any sort but to simply allow it to sink in that while mental illness may be scary it should be okay to write about. We shouldn’t fear mental illness but properly educate ourselves to prevent situations such as Ivan from happening.  
> Thank you so much for reading and lovely Weebs!  
> With love,  
> Writing Weeb


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